Waltz
by ArtisticRainey
Summary: Spoilers for Breakdown. Virgil's come home to an empty lounge - apart from M.A.X., of course. And then someone else shows up. Complete fluff.


So they had all gone to bed. Well, nearly everyone. Virgil gave M.A.X. a lopsided smile.

"At least you stayed up to see me," he said, giving the little robot a pat on the head. "And you even saved me some cake.

M.A.X. vibrated in delight and spun around on the spot. Virgil set the now-empty cake plate aside and glanced around at the remains of what should have been a great party.

"I really thought they had forgotten about me," he said, plucking up one of the wilting balloons. "But now I know they _did_ remember, but they ended up going to bed…" He pulled the knotted end of the balloon so it shot across the room, landing forlornly a few meters away. "I think that might even be _worse_ than forgetting. Couldn't they have stayed up for a few more hours?"

In truth, he knew they couldn't. He had been gone for a long time but it had been worth it in the end. Knowing that not only one child, but many children, would be saved because he made the right choice, was the best birthday present he could have received.

 _Even so_ , he thought glancing around the room again. _It would have been nice to have a little company before I have to head to bed._

Fatigue was hanging heavily upon him, a yoke across his aching shoulders. Operating the Jaws of Life suit wasn't difficult – but neither was it easy. Sighing, he shook his head and turned to climb the few stairs up to the main lounge deck.

He managed five steps across the darkened lounge floor before he saw a pair of green eyes glinting in the darkness. He stopped dead.

"John?"

His brother, still clad in his uniform, stepped out of the shadows. John walked forward until he was a few feet from Virgil – and he favoured his brother with a rare smile.

"Happy Birthday, Virgil," he said. "I'm sorry it didn't turn out the way everyone had planned."

A sudden lump formed in Virgil's throat and he threw himself forward, pulling his impossibly thin brother into his burly arms.

"Thanks, Jay," he said.

He shouldn't have had such an emotional reaction. It didn't make a lot of sense. Except that it _had_ been a long day and he was tired and he had _really_ been looking forward to having a little special attention for one day. In the Tracy household, with emergencies coming in thick and fast, there was seldom time to celebrate.

"Virgil… _Crushing_ me…" John choked out.

"Oh, sorry."

Releasing John from his bearlike arms, Virgil took a step back and rubbed his neck, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry," he said again. "I'm just tired."

John shook his head to let the blood flow back into it and blinked a few times. Then he spoke.

"No, you're not just tired," he said.

The bluntness of the statement shouldn't have surprised Virgil. This was _John_ , after all. But with his heart wilting and his adrenaline levels falling, he felt a pang of pain and frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

The hitch in his voice made John raise an eyebrow. Virgil relented and hung his head.

"Alright," he said. "I feel kinda awful, seeing as everyone's gone to bed." There was an indignant _whirr_ and Virgil corrected himself. "Sorry, _nearly_ everyone. M.A.X. stayed up to see me."

Quite how a robot could look pleased with itself, Virgil did not know. But as he raised his 'neck' and 'blinked,' M.A.X. certainly did.

"I'm sorry," John said again. "They really did have big plans. There's a gift for you somewhere, but…" His face coloured a little and he shrugged. "I actually don't know where they've stashed it. I was planning on staying up on Five to monitor a hurricane that was brewing but it seems to have blown itself out. Hence, I'm now here." He spread his hands out. "Surprise."

Virgil gave John the most grateful smile he could muster and nodded.

"Well, I appreciate the gesture," he said. "I wish I could offer you some cake or something."

"Cake's not really my thing, anyway," John said. "Now, a bagel, on the other hand…"

Virgil chuckled at that, but he nearly fell to the floor laughing at what his brother did next. He gave a hugely exaggerated wink – and it was the most clunky, most _ridiculous_ thing Virgil had seen since Gordon premiered his pink Speedos.

As Virgil cackled with laughter, John planted his hands on his hips.

"Did I do it right?" he asked. The earnestness in his voice was beautiful. "I was trying to be funny."

"Yes," Virgil wheezed, trying to straighten and wipe tears of mirth from his eyes. "You just about did it."

John looked enormously pleased with himself and, for the briefest of moments, Virgil saw a flash of their mother in his brother's face. She had been red-headed and feisty, and when John smiled – _really_ smiled – the resemblance was striking.

And then Virgil wasn't laughing anymore. Then his tears of joy turned into threats of sorrow.

John's expression crumbled as he saw the storm cloud pass over Virgil's face.

"Shit," he said, holding his hands up. "What did I do?"

Virgil drew in a deep breath to calm himself and shook his head. It wasn't fair to constantly remind John that every time he gave a genuine smile, he was the doppelganger of their mother. Sometimes Virgil wondered if that was why John didn't smile all that much – or maybe, just maybe, why he lived on a space station with no mirrors on board.

"Nothing, Jay," Virgil said, pulling himself together. "You didn't do anything. It's just..." He knew he shouldn't have said the rest, but tiredness dulled his senses. "You looked like Mom, is all."

John's face fell back into a solemn mask for a moment; Virgil felt guilt twist in his gut.

But then John grinned again – the hugest, broadest grin Virgil had ever seen. It would even have given Gordon and his signature smile a run for his money.

"Well," John said, setting his hands on his bony hips again, "if I look like Mom, I'm going to act like Mom."

" _Huh_?" Virgil asked.

As he watched his brother cross to the centre of the lounge and hop down into the seating area, Virgil had visions of John bringing up algebra or chemistry work and making him do it until he got every question right. _Just like Mom did!_

But instead, John pulled up the holo-emitter and cycled through their substantial music database. He selected a track but didn't let it play. Then, leaping back up onto the main floor of the lounge, John jogged over to Virgil and held out his hands.

"Come on," he said. "We talk about what Dad would have done all the time. But right now, I need to do what _Mom_ would have done."

"What are you talking about?" Virgil asked.

 _Has he gone nuts or something?_ he thought, thinking back to their hug and trying to remember if John had been running a fever. _Delusional!_

John, still holding out his arms, rolled his eyes.

"Play track," he said.

As soon as the strains of a long-ago song started to play, Virgil's heart nearly shattered.

"John, no…" he said.

"Virgil, _yes_ ," John replied. "I'll even let you lead."

Everything made Virgil want to say no. Every fibre of his body wanted to scream _no no no_ and walk away. Because this was not going to make him feel any better.

And yet he knew that it would. So, when the singer's voice started to ring out, he took one of John's hands in his and slipped his other arm around his brother's thin back, feeling the sharpness of his shoulder blade. And, without waiting any longer, they started to dance.

 _Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, we love you._

 _Happy Birthday and may all your dreams come true._

It was a simple waltz their mother had taught them all at a young age, a waltz danced on every single birthday, every single year. As the music washed over him, Virgil closed his eyes, listening not only to the recorded voice, but to the soft warble of his brother's singing as well.

 _When you blow out the candles_

 _One light stays aglow._

 _Step, side, close. Step, side, close_. It was amazing how the routine came back after over a decade of being cast into the dusty back alleys of Virgil's mind. As soon as their mother had passed, the dancing had stopped. But now, he was transported back in time, back to when he was five years old and he'd just been given a brand new _Torchy_ book.

He closed his eyes and it wasn't his brother who was singing to him. It was his mother.

 _It's the lovelight in your eyes_

 _Where'er you go._

The tempo picked up and Virgil opened his eyes again. He and John spun around, the moonlight casting a pair of dark shadow dancers across the hardwood floor. John's hand rested lightly on Virgil's shoulder, and there was a sparkle of compassion in his green eyes that had nothing to do with the starlight that spilled in from outside.

For someone who spent ninety percent of his time out of gravity's reach – the most of the other ten percent complaining about how inconvenient gravity was – John was lithe and graceful on his feet. They moved in tandem. _Step, side, close. Step, side, close._ And Virgil couldn't help but grin as the lyrics repeated again.

 _Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, we love you._

 _Happy Birthday and may all your dreams come true._

 _When you blow out the candles_

 _One light stays aglow._

 _It's the lovelight in your eyes_

 _Where'er you go._

"Happy Birthday, Virg," John said as they spun around one final time.

The music wound down and their dance came to a close. When they broke apart, Virgil felt a sting of bereavement.

Slightly breathless – more from shock than exertion – Virgil once more pulled his brother in for a tight hug, seeking out the familiarity of family again.

"Thanks, Jay," he said softly.

"No problem," his brother said, squeezing back. "Any time."

 **~oOo~**

 _Happy Birthday Waltz_ : watch?v=oxrZgfaazgo


End file.
